


Breaking In

by psychoadept



Series: Ripper!verse [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Barely Legal, Bondage, M/M, Non Consensual, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoadept/pseuds/psychoadept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: Non-con PWP.  Not violent, but there is NO consent here.</p><p>Ripper can't wait to play with his new toy.</p><p>(Takes place slightly earlier on the night of Sacrificing a Pawn, but will make more sense if you read that first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking In

It wasn’t until the rest of the students had been released that Wesley started to feel the weight of his decision.  Alone with Ripper in the back of the van, as it rattled through dark London streets, he shifted restlessly, aware of every discomfort, from the stiffness of his arms, shackled behind his back, to the soreness of his arsehole, to the cold metal floor under his shins.

Ripper’s hand combed through his hair, and Wesley leaned into the touch in spite of himself.  Maybe it was the magic, making him weak.

“Something bothering you?”

Wesley raised his head enough to look askance at Ripper.  He'd been weeks away from graduating from the Academy, and now he was naked and chained at a vampire's feet.  What could possibly be bothering him?

"Nothing," he said, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Aren’t you happy that your friends are free?”

“Of course."  He _was_ relieved.  He’d more than half expected Ripper to kill them all anyway, once the spell was complete.  “Thank you.  For keeping your word.”

Ripper acknowledged the thanks with a hum in his throat.  His fingers trailed lower on Wesley’s neck, massaging absently.  Wesley wanted to shrug them off.  It felt too good.

When Ripper’s touch moved to where the heavy iron band circled his neck, he shivered with something that wasn’t quite fear.  He hadn’t had much time to look at it before Ripper put it on him, while he was still dazed from magic and fucking and loss of blood, but it had looked like a museum piece.  Its weight on his collarbone was an inexorable reminder that he was a piece of property now.

Ripper tugged on the collar.  “Look at me.”

Wesley raised his head warily.  With the demon in abeyance, Ripper barely looked older than Wesley himself.  His strong, angular face reminded Wesley uncomfortably of the footballers he had obsessed over briefly when he was younger, before his father discovered the interest and snuffed it out.

Ripper looked back at him appraisingly.  "Head boy, hmm?"

Wesley straightened his spine, refusing to surrender his pride in that accolade.  "Yes."

"Top of your class?"

"Of course."

Ripper tilted his head.  "How many languages can you read?"

Wesley hesitated, suddenly less sure it was wise to brag of his accomplishments.  "I can make sense of most of them," he admitted.  He had a feeling Ripper would know if he lied.

"Demonic, too?"

Wesley nodded.

Ripper hummed and stared thoughtfully over Wesley's head.

"I won't help you hurt people," Wesley blurted out.

Ripper laughed darkly and wound the chain that served as Wesley's lead around his hand, reeling Wesley in, until Wesley found himself with his chest pressed to Ripper’s thigh and his chin forced up by the angle of the collar.

"Since you're such a prodigy," Ripper growled, "I'm giving you a surprise exam.  Pass, and I'll reward you later.  Fail..."

Wesley shuddered and felt his heart pound harder in his chest.  _And you'll what?_ he wanted to demand.  All he could do was stare up at Ripper.

"Well."  Ripper quirked a smile.  "That can be the first question.  What _shall_ I do if you fail your exam?"

Stinging pain across the side of his face registered in Wesley’s mind first, and only then that Ripper had slapped him for turning his head and closing his eyes.

“Do that again and I’ll take it as a forfeit.  Understood?”

Wesley nodded, blinking back tears.

“Good.  Now answer the question.”

Wesley struggled to remember what he was answering – oh, yes.  “You’ll punish me,” he whispered.  And with much worse than a slap on the face, he assumed.

Ripper nodded slightly, to Wesley’s relief.  “How?”

“How?” Wesley echoed, confused.

“…will I punish you?”

Wesley was still at a loss.  How could he possibly know what Ripper planned to do to him?  He could say “any way you choose”, but he was afraid Ripper would take that as an evasion.  Could he afford to be wrong?  Did it even matter what he said?  He searched Ripper’s face for a clue, but all he could see was the cruel twist of Ripper’s mouth.  He was taking too long.  Oh, god.  Ripper’s patience could run out at any moment.

He fell back on something familiar.  “With a switch?”

For some reason, that caused Ripper to sputter with laughter.  "A switch?"

Wesley's heart sank, but Ripper continued after a beat, still chuckling.  "That's a good answer.  Yes. Disappoint me and I'll give you a switching."

Something about the way Ripper said "switching", rolling it on his tongue as if he could taste it, made Wesley's whole body quivery with fear and anticipation.  He was suddenly grateful for the support of Ripper's thigh.

"Next question," Ripper said, giving Wesley no time to collect his thoughts.  "I'll give you an easy one: who decides what happens to you now?"

That _was_ easy, even if Wesley hated the answer.  "You do."

Ripper nodded in approval.  "Who decides when you eat?"

It was harder to keep his eyes on Ripper’s face this time.  It felt like telling Ripper he had the right, not just the power.  "You do," he said.

"When you sleep?"

"You do.”

"...and relieve yourself?"

Wesley squirmed, closing his legs even as he was forced to admit that, yes, Ripper controlled him that intimately.

"You do," he answered, barely moving his lips.

"Very good," Ripper said.

Wesley didn't want to want Ripper's approval, but a little frisson of something ran through him.  Relief, that was all.

Ripper had let the lead go slack some time ago, but now he hooked his fingers into the collar again, making Wesley crane his neck.  “What does that make you?”

Wesley swallowed, which only made him feel Ripper’s knuckles against his Adam’s apple more keenly.  “A slave.”

“And me?”

Wesley’s eyes flickered down in denial, but he forced them back up.  “My master,” he grated.

Thankfully, Ripper only seemed amused by the resentment in Wesley’s voice.  “Tell me, _slave_ ,” he continued.  “How do you think you should you address your master?”

It took Wesley a moment to gather his wits, but once he did he thought he knew what Ripper wanted.  He did a better job of masking the resentment this time.  “As ‘sir.’”

Ripper nodded.  “So when I ask you who decides what happens to you, you would say…?”

Wesley sighed.  “You do, sir.”

“Good.  See that you remember that.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley promised.

Ripper held Wesley’s eyes for a moment longer, then let the collar slip from his fingers and patted Wesley approvingly on the cheek that still throbbed from being slapped.  “Full marks, then.  Well done.”

Released from Ripper’s probing gaze, Wesley sat back on his heels and risked lowering his eyes.  His muscles still felt a bit watery, but he managed to stay upright despite the bouncing and swaying of the van.  He stared at his knees and tried to focus on breathing.  His imagination kept conjuring up the sting of a switch biting into his arse.  Part of him wished he'd given Ripper an excuse to beat him.  At least then he could let out the wail that clogged his throat.

Chain links clinked as Ripper played the lead back and forth in his hands, almost like a rosary. Wesley raised his head far enough to watch the metal glint in the dim light.  It was soothingly hypnotic, and he found himself idly counting the links as they passed between Ripper’s sturdy fingers.  One, two, three to the left.  Then one, two, three to the right.

He didn't realize Ripper had noticed his attention until the chain didn't change directions when he expected it to.  Ripper kept moving the links at the same steady pace, while the lead went slowly taut.  Wesley stilled, barely breathing, with his eyes fixed on Ripper's hands.  It was such a stupid, simple thing compared to everything Ripper _could_ do to him, but even a gentle pull on his neck made his pulse stutter and speed up again.

They sat like that for a long moment, both focused on the few inches of chain that connected them.  Then Ripper flicked his wrist, twitching the chain upward.  Taking it as an instruction, Wesley raised his eyes to Ripper's face.

He was startled to find Ripper smiling at him in a way that was hard not to read as affectionate.  Letting the lead go slack again, Ripper reached out and stroked Wesley’s hair.  Wesley shivered.  He wanted Ripper’s kindness even less now than he had before.

Ripper briefly leaned forward and craned his neck to see out the back of the van.  “We’ll be a few minutes yet,” he said.  “If you like, I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

Wesley stared at the floor in silence, wondering if this was another test, until Ripper waved his hand broadly.  “Ask me anything.  I won’t hold it against you.”

Wesley didn’t believe that, but he feared Ripper would be angry if he didn’t play along.  He struggled to form a meaningful question out of the fears crowding his mind.  It was a foregone conclusion that Ripper would want to fuck him again, and probably torture him, too.  Asking about it only seemed likely to precipitate the pain.  But if he at least knew what Ripper expected of him, and what the consequences of failure would be, he might have a sliver of control over his fate.

Ripper seemed to like obsequiousness, so Wesley gazed up through his eyelashes and mustered his politest tone.  “Will you tell me the rules, sir?”

Ripper’s mouth twitched.  “You mean, will I tell you how to keep me happy so that you can avoid punishment?”

Damn.  Wesley had known anything he asked would make things worse.  “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

To his surprise, Ripper continued without sarcasm. “It’s a good question.  I can see why you were in favor with your instructors.”  He crossed his arms and bent his head in thought.  "I'll make my expectations clear as we go," he said, finally.  "And I’ll hurt you, when I think it will motivate you to perform better.  Or if I feel like it.”  The little shrug he gave, looking at Wesley out of the corner of his eye, was bizarrely diffident.

Then he turned his gaze full on Wesley, his expression darkening.  "If you choose to defy me, pain will be the least of your worries.  I can be very creative.”

Wesley gulped.  “I understand, sir.”  It was no more or less than he’d expected.  Despite the knot of dread in his gut, he felt better for having the threats out in the open.

When Ripper’s hand settled on his head again, Wesley had a burst of anger.  He was sick of the pretense of kindness. If Ripper was going to punish him anyway, he wanted it over with.  He twisted away and was not at all surprised to be caught by the hair and the lead an instant later.  He winced, but pulled against Ripper’s grasp anyway.

“Calm down,” Ripper said evenly.

Wesley ignored him.  When he tried to push away with his legs, he found himself suddenly bent across Ripper’s thighs instead, held in place by an immovable hand on his collar.  He kicked, but there was nothing to kick against.

“Calm down,” Ripper said again, “or when we get in I’ll let every vampire in the building have a swat at your arse.”

Wesley went limp, horrified by the idea of who knew how many more unwelcome hands on his body.  Stupid, stupid of him to provoke Ripper.

“That’s better.” Ripper adjusted his grip so that he could touch Wesley freely.  “I told you I could find more effective ways than pain to discipline you.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley muttered.  Then he hissed sharply as Ripper’s hand settled on his arse.

“If you _want_ pain, you have only to ask,” Ripper continued.  “Do you?  Want it?”

Wesley had an almost physical sensation of shrinking.  He shook his head.  “No.  No, sir.”

Ripper bent closer, inhaling deeply along Wesley’s neck.  “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. 

He lifted his hand and Wesley cringed, but when he brought it back down it was only to give Wesley’s arse a condescending pat.  Wesley blew out a harsh breath, equal parts relief and anger.

 “We’ll talk about it later,” Ripper said.

Just then the van braked and made a sharp turn, and Wesley would have tumbled to the floor if Ripper hadn’t thrown an arm around his waist.  After another sharp turn, they lurched to a halt.

The engine died, but Wesley didn’t try to move.  He wasn’t ready to be there.

The back of the van was thrown open at the same time that Ripper tipped him into an upright position.  Wesley resisted the urge to fold in on himself, but avoided looking over his shoulder at the other vampires for as long as he could.

He’d been through this once already, paraded naked in front of all of them, but then he’d been focused on the safety of his friends.  Now he had nothing to distract him from the fact that he was the only mortal in a building overrun with undead.  When the anticipated pull at his collar came, the only thing that got him moving was the knowledge that he was safest with Ripper.

He fixed his eyes on Ripper’s heels and stumbled after him, grateful for once for his nearsightedness, which rendered most of the other vampires nothing but abstract figures in the periphery of his vision.  A few loomed close enough for him to make out their golden eyes.  Some even went so far as to sniff him in passing.  Wesley managed to stay in Ripper’s wake until a hand closed on his thigh, making him yelp and shy away so hard that his already shaky legs failed him.

He heard Ripper snarl even as he landed painfully on his shoulder, and curled up in anticipation of a blow.  But the awful crunch Wesley heard wasn’t from his body.  He cracked an eye open in time to see a woman fall away from Ripper with her neck at a right angle.

Wesley gaped until Ripper hoisted him by the armpits and set him back on his feet.  He honestly couldn’t have said whether he wanted to flee from Ripper or cling to him.  It didn’t matter, because a tug at his neck forced him to fall into step again.  They were nearly to Ripper’s suite before it occurred to him that a vampire would recover from a broken neck.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Wesley sank to his knees again, too shaken to care if it made him weak.  It came as no surprise when fingers combed through his hair, and this time Wesley gave in to his need for comfort without protest.  It crossed his mind that the entire ordeal might have been a ploy to make him more compliant.  If so, it had worked.  He hardly cared what Ripper did to him in private, as long as he didn’t have to run that particular gauntlet again.

For the moment Ripper just pulled Wesley close, Wesley’s cheek pressed to the front of Ripper’s shirt, and petted him.  Before today, Wesley might have expected Ripper to smell like the corpse he was, but the only things Wesley smelled were the smoky leather of Ripper’s jacket and the jarringly mundane fragrance of laundry detergent.  Ripper’s body was cool, but it warmed quickly where Wesley touched him.

Wesley thought again that the spell he’d done with Ripper must be influencing him, because he didn’t see how being touched by a vampire could possibly be soothing, especially a male vampire who had already violated him once and was sure to do so again.  Yet the light caresses on his face and neck were enough to quiet the yammering voice of fear in his head.  Wesley closed his eyes and told himself that it wasn’t worth fighting; he didn’t have a choice, either way.

By the time Ripper stepped away, leaving Wesley to sit back on his heels, the tight feeling in his chest had eased and his body felt stable, if not exactly relaxed.

“Stay here,” Ripper said.

He turned and went to the far end of the room.  Everything was a blur at that distance, but Wesley heard water running, and when Ripper returned he was carrying a glass.  He crouched and put out his free hand to support Wesley’s head, raising the cup to Wesley’s lips with the other.

Wesley drank willingly; he hadn’t realized until then how thirsty he was.  Ripper didn’t rush him, but also didn’t take the cup away until Wesley had drained it.

Once it was empty, Ripper asked, “Do you need to use the loo?”

Wesley checked in with his body and realized that he could probably stand to go.  “Yes, sir,” he said.

Ripper helped him stand and led him past the kitchen area, where he deposited the cup, into a surprisingly well-equipped bathroom.  Wesley stood uncertainly in front of the toilet for a moment, but quickly concluded that without the use of his hands he was going to have to sit down.  Of course, sitting down meant facing Ripper, who was standing in the doorway with the end of the lead in his hands, watching.

Wesley opened his mouth to plead for privacy, but closed it again in silence and fixed his eyes on the floor.  Slaves didn’t get privacy, he supposed.  At least Ripper wasn’t trying to “help” him.

It took a while to persuade his muscles that it was okay to let go.  When they did, he was thankful he’d sat down.  After a couple of false starts and a little dribble from his bladder, his body suddenly decided to purge all the stress of the last day through his arsehole.  As violently as possible.

He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling as if he might spontaneously combust from embarrassment.  Once the process had started it seemed impossible to stop.

When nothing more had come out of him for a minute or two, Ripper asked, “Are you done?”

Wesley nodded, unable to make himself answer out loud.  He felt Ripper brush past, heard a cabinet open and close, and then the tap running.

The toilet flushed.  Ripper’s hand was on Wesley’s collar, pulling him to his feet and turning him around, bending him over so that his forehead rested on the cold porcelain of the tank cover.  Wesley allowed himself to be posed, afraid that if he opened his eyes or made any voluntary movement, he would burst into tears.

A wet, warm, rough cloth wiped his arse.  The tap ran again and then the cloth returned, a longer pass this time, cleaning him thoroughly.

The impending tears receded as Wesley felt cleaner, but given a choice he would have taken a dozen spankings over this.  And yet, despite everything, his body wanted to respond as the cloth caressed him a third time.  Damn the magic, he thought.

Wesley stayed put, waiting to see if this exercise in humiliation was over yet, while Ripper rinsed the cloth a final time and put it wherever it needed to go.  When Ripper took hold of his collar again, he pulled Wesley back a few steps without letting him straighten.

Wesley yelped when Ripper delivered a jarring smack to his arse.

“That’s for closing your eyes,” Ripper said.

Before Wesley had time to do more than draw breath, Ripper delivered a second blow.  That time Wesley lost his balance and dropped painfully to his knees.

“That’s for not answering me aloud,” Ripper said.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Wesley gasped.  Ripper still had him by the neck, so all he could do was stare at the toilet in front of him.

“Good,” Ripper said more gently.  “Come on.”  He released the collar and took hold of Wesley’s arm to help him back to his feet.

Wesley padded anxiously after Ripper again as the sting faded from his arse.  They angled across the room, giving Wesley a better look at the large, apparently one-room flat.  He saw movement from the corner of his eye and nearly tripped in alarm, only to realize that half of one wall was taken up by a huge gym mirror.  He averted his eyes, afraid of the sight of himself.

They ended up at Ripper’s bed.  “Sit,” Ripper instructed.

Wesley gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed, wondering if Ripper was about to fuck him again.  The idea didn’t bother him as much as he expected.  It would probably hurt more without the momentum of the spell to help things along, but it couldn’t possibly be more demeaning than having his arse cleaned like an infant.  It seemed to support his theory when Ripper unhooked the lead from his collar and hung it over a nearby chair. 

Turning back to Wesley, Ripper gave him a warm smile.  “You’re doing very well, you know,” he said.

“I am?” Wesley asked, before he could catch himself.  “Sir,” he added hastily.

Ripper chuckled.  “You are.  You learn quickly and you’re smart enough not to fight battles you can’t win.  I’ve met much older men who haven’t shown half your sense under pressure.”

Knowingly enslaving oneself to a vampire wasn’t very sensible, Wesley thought, but the compliment pleased him in spite of himself.  He smiled weakly. “Thank you, sir.”

Ripper inclined his head in acknowledgement.  “You’ll find that good conduct has privileges.  For instance, if you promise to behave yourself, I’ll free your hands.”

“I promise, sir,” Wesley said, eager at the prospect of relieving the strain on his arms.

Ripper nodded.  He bent Wesley forward with a hand on his shoulder.  Wesley heard the rattle of keys, and then Ripper reached across him to his wrists.  In short order the shackles fell away.

Wesley hissed and grimaced as he straightened, letting his arms fall back into a natural position.  While Ripper put the shackles away somewhere, he rolled his shoulders and wrists to loosen them.  Having the use of his arms again did wonders for his state of mind.  However little difference it made in practice, he at least _felt_ less like a piece of livestock.  He took a quick inventory as he stretched: his shoulder was deeply bruised where he’d fallen on it and there were marks on his wrists from pulling against the cuffs, but nothing seemed to be seriously damaged.

He started to fold his hands in his lap, only to become acutely aware of his exposed cock and balls.  Instinct and self-consciousness made him reluctant to touch them, so after a moment of hesitation he rested his palms on his thighs.

When he looked up to find out what was next, Ripper caught his gaze and gave him an approving nod.  Then he extended a hand to Wesley.

It felt weirdly chummy, but Wesley took the hand and let Ripper lead him the short distance back to the wall with the mirror.  He balked when he realized that Ripper meant for him to look at himself, then turned obediently. 

He only saw himself, of course.  Even that felt like looking at a stranger.  He could hardly relate to the gangly, naked figure; his first thought was that he needed to comb his hair.

Before he could take in more than that, Ripper raised Wesley’s arms like a mannequin’s and planted his palms against the glass at shoulder height.  Wesley panicked briefly at the thought of smudges before his attention was distracted by Ripper’s hands on his hips, pulling him back just far enough that he had to support himself with his arms.  He bent his head, trying to keep track of what Ripper was doing, while Ripper’s boot tapped at his ankles until Wesley shuffled his feet precariously far apart. 

 _Oh God_ , he thought, with a tinge of hysteria.  He looked wanton, with his legs splayed open and his cock and balls dangling between them like ripe fruit.  Any minute now, Ripper would take him.  He tried not to remember the feeling of Ripper’s cock plowing into him the first time.  Maybe it was better if it hurt more; maybe his body wouldn’t betray him.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when Ripper wrenched his head up, forcing Wesley to look forward again.  He stared into his own anxious face, panting shallowly.  The only evidence the mirror gave that he wasn’t alone was his hair, standing up where it was caught in Ripper’s fist.

“You asked about rules,” Ripper said, somewhere close to Wesley’s ear.  “What do you think they are right now?”

Wesley opened his mouth and closed it.  He was braced for being raped, not quizzed again.  He started to shut his eyes, to collect his thoughts, then forced them back open.  He’d learned that lesson.

Oh.

“Keep my eyes open,” he said.

Ripper’s only response was an affirmative grunt.  The fist stayed in his hair, so Wesley guessed that Ripper was waiting for another answer.

“And – and don’t move,” he ventured.

That time Ripper let go of him and smoothed Wesley’s hair back into place.  “Two for two.  Can you follow them?”

Hold still while Ripper violated him and watch it all in the mirror, where Ripper was effectively invisible? Wesley didn’t know if he could stand it, but the alternative was letting Ripper restrain him again.  “Sir?” he asked.  “What if I blink?”

“I think you understand the spirit of the law,” Ripper said.

“Yes, sir,” Wesley agreed.  It was a stupid question.  “I’ll do it.  Follow the rules.”

“Good,” Ripper said.  He pressed closer to Wesley and curled a hand around Wesley’s throat, tilting Wesley’s head to expose the wound on his neck.  “You can move your body as much as you like,” he whispered, as though sharing a secret with Wesley.  “Just keep your hands and feet in place, and this will feel very, very good.”

Wesley whimpered when Ripper punctuated his words by tearing the bite wound open with blunt, human teeth.  Wesley wanted to protest that it didn’t feel good at all, but the shiver that went through him as a cool tongue lapped away the welling blood told a different story.

Being able to see the holes in his neck and watch his skin drawn up by the gentle suction of Ripper’s mouth was too surreal.  Wesley fixed his eyes on the unequivocal presence of the collar, just below the wound, and tried to block out the rest.

The collar looked as archaic as it had on first impression: two half-circles of rough, black iron, hinged together in the middle.  It was secured with an incongruously modern padlock, which Ripper had sealed by hammering the end of a table knife into the key hole and breaking it off.  As though Wesley would have stood a chance of getting it off even without the jammed lock, but the irrevocable snap of the knife breaking had unnerved him. Which was probably the point.

Ripper abandoned his neck in favor of exploring Wesley’s body with his hands.  Aside from a few subtle hints in the mirror and flickers of motion at the periphery of his vision Wesley could see nothing of what Ripper was doing to him, as Ripper patiently sought out all the spots that made his breath catch or his muscles jump, from his armpits to his arse.  It was maddening.  His position wasn’t physically demanding, but suppressing the urge to close his eyes and shut out the sight of his face and body _reacting_ to Ripper’s touch, or to turn his head and see what Ripper was doing, took constant effort.

Meanwhile, Ripper found places that Wesley hadn’t known he _could_ be sensitive, such as when Ripper’s fingers pressed into the hollows of his hip bones and rubbed, just so.  Ripper hummed in satisfaction as Wesley squirmed, fighting to stay in position while his hips writhed of their own accord. 

“That’s it,” Ripper murmured.  “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself.  Let me see how much you want it.”

“No,” Wesley breathed, barely a whisper.  Ripper might be able to make his body respond, but he didn’t want it.  He didn’t.

Brutality would have been easier to take.  No one living had ever paid this much attention to his body; it felt like Ripper was robbing him of something.  For a moment Wesley’s instincts screamed at him to turn and attack, make Ripper hurt him.  His fingers curled against the glass, but the padlock at his throat reminded him that he’d already surrendered.

Ripper had at least tired of the spot on his hips.  “Look at your cock,” he instructed.

Wesley’s eyes obeyed before he could stop them, forcing him to confront his half-erect state.  He tried to will his body to calm down, but Ripper’s fingers went to work on his nipples, pinching and rubbing lightly, and soon his cock bobbed against gravity’s pull.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Ripper said.  “Have you always been this sensitive?”

Wesley shook his head, less in answer to the question than in denial of his body’s response.  He felt as though his nipples were buttons on an arcade game Ripper was playing, every touch sending little pulses to his cock.

“What’s that?” Ripper demanded, pinching hard enough to draw a pained noise from Wesley’s throat.

“No, sir,” Wesley said.  “The-the magic—the spell—”

Ripper laughed.  “If it makes you feel better to believe that, be my guest.”

Wesley’s neck prickled with shame.  He was glad he didn’t have to see Ripper’s face.

Ripper gave Wesley’s nipples a parting rub, then teased the skin at the base of Wesley’s cock with a light flutter of his fingertips.  Wesley gasped and tried to twist away, but thankfully Ripper didn’t persist.

“It’s all right,” he whispered in Wesley’s ear, soothing away the tickling sensations with a firmer stroke of his palm.  “You can tell yourself it’s just magic when you beg me to touch you.”

No, Wesley thought, though his cock already ached for attention.  He wouldn’t beg.  Ripper could force him to submit to this, with threats or chains, but he would never ask for it of his own volition.

Suddenly Ripper was gone.  Wesley tensed, prepared for anything, but after a moment he heard movement in another part of the room.  There was a jostling noise that got closer, and then a black plastic case of some kind, like a large toolbox, appeared on the ground just behind Wesley.  Wesley eyed the case nervously and made a mental note of the fact that anything a vampire was holding didn’t have a reflection, either.

Ripper must have sat or kneeled behind him, because Wesley was distracted from the box when Ripper began to caress his arse.  Wesley sighed and let his eyes lose focus, surrendering his attention to the heavy warmth in his cock and balls.  The touch moved to his inner thighs, making him hiss and spread his knees the little he could. 

The closer Ripper’s fingers came to his arsehole, the more he noticed that it ached to be touched almost as much as his cock.  It made no sense.  Could this really not be magic?

Either way, he wanted to groan in disappointment when Ripper’s hands went away without ever reaching that spot.  The lid of the box swung open, but the angle of it still blocked his view of the contents.  Sounds of rummaging nearly drove Wesley to turn his head and look.  Fortunately they didn’t last long.

Somehow the characteristic snap of a medical glove calmed him.  It was followed by a soft squelch that he recognized from before. Lubricant.  He inhaled deeply and tried to relax.  He’d taken Ripper’s cock already; fingers should be easy.

He clenched reflexively when Ripper spread his arse cheeks with one hand, but the expected penetration didn’t follow.

“As long as you don’t fight it, this shouldn’t hurt, “Ripper said.  “Tell me if you feel any pain.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley said, feeling oddly uncomfortable with the instruction.

The next moment, a slick, gloved finger probed his entrance, working in and out shallowly a few times in a way that felt far better than it had any right to.  Then it delved deeper, producing a something-where-it-doesn’t-belong sensation that made Wesley flinch.  When the finger began to twist and thrust, Wesley gurgled and went up on his toes.

Even though it was just a finger, everything felt more intense than when Ripper had fucked him.  It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was too strange to be comfortable.  He wanted it out, yet his cock responded with renewed throbbing.

After a moment, Ripper’s motions inside him became more purposeful, as though he were reaching for something, the toy surprise at the bottom of the candy box.  Wesley didn’t realize it was true until Ripper rubbed a spot that made Wesley’s eyes roll and his jaw go slack.  The rest of him tried to, too.

“Please,” he gasped, mostly out of fear that he would break position and Ripper would be angry.

“Like that, do you?” Ripper asked, chuckling.

“You’re using magic,” Wesley protested again.  Nothing in _there_ could possibly feel this good.

“It’s called your prostate,” Ripper said.  “Marvelous little gland.”

He withdrew the finger, but only so he could push two in together.  The extra width and lingering soreness combined to make Wesley wince.  This time Ripper went right for his prostate, though, and any discomfort Wesley felt was eclipsed as a euphoric feeling slowly radiated through his body.

He caught himself pushing back against the subtle thrust of Ripper’s fingers, tried to stop, then gave in.  He could only keep so many parts of himself under control at once.  Especially when there was a feeling building in his cock as though someone were tickling it from the inside, which made coherent thought nearly impossible.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Ripper said.

Wesley whimpered.  Don’t beg, he reminded himself, although his body was doing the begging for him well enough.  The motion of his hips became more pronounced, making his cock wag lewdly while the head strained out of his foreskin like an eager turtle.

“What do you want?” Ripper prodded.

Wesley’s imagination flashed a series of slides at him: the relief of a hand touching him, squeezing and stroking feverishly, until he came so hard it splattered the mirror.  He shook his head.  “Nothing.”

Ripper just laughed.

Wesley whined in frustration when Ripper pulled his fingers out after another minute or so, but his body calmed to a tolerable state in the absence of immediate stimulation.  The glove Ripper had been using fluttered to the floor, inside out, and there was movement in the vicinity of the black box.  Wesley could hear the lube again.

Then Ripper spread his arse cheeks again and something new began to enter him.  A sex toy, Wesley realized.  The rounded tip breeched him easily and his anxious clenching provided no real resistance, only made the feeling of being stretched open more intense.  He moaned and went up on his toes again. 

“Oh, god,” he gasped.  “Please stop.”

Ripper stopped pushing on the toy but left it in, deep enough that Wesley couldn’t easily dislodge it.  Ripper’s free hand moved to rub the outside of Wesley’s thigh.  “Take a deep breath,” he encouraged.

Wesley took a breath, more shaky than deep, but it calmed him a bit.  “Please,” he repeated.

“You forget your manners, pet,” Ripper scolded.

It took Wesley a moment to process what Ripper meant.  “Sir.  Please, sir.  Please take it out.”

“Better,” Ripper said, still rubbing Wesley’s thigh.  “The answer is no.  I’d consider a compromise, though.”

“A compromise, sir?”  The very idea set off alarms in Wesley’s head.

“Yes.  You’re going to be fucked by this dildo for as long as it amuses me.  The only question is whether I control the fucking or you do.  It’s your choice.”

Ripper’s cavalier insistence on violating him made Wesley’s knees weak again, but he understood that Ripper was offering him a chance to make it easier on himself – for the price of surrendering any pretense of resistance.  He looked himself over in the mirror and saw an obedient, shameless slave.  What point was there in fighting?

“I’ll do it, sir,” he whispered.

“What will you do?” Ripper asked.

Wesley forced himself to speak more clearly, despite the unfamiliar vulgarity of the words.  “I’ll fuck myself.  On the dildo.”  And god help him, his cock was throbbing harder again already.

“For how long?”

“As long as you want, sir.”

“Very good,” Ripper said, giving Wesley’s thigh an encouraging pat.  “If it helps, you can move your hands; just keep them on the wall.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley said. 

He slid his hands to a position that offered him more leverage, cringing in the back of his mind at the sweaty streaks they left on the glass.  Then he flexed his thighs and clenched a few times, working up the nerve to take more of the dildo.  The stretch of his muscles around it was tight, but not painful; he didn’t know what the rest of it would be like.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Ripper asked.

Wesley wondered why Ripper bothered asking permission.  “Sir?”

“I think you’ll find the penetration more comfortable if you push out, like you’re taking a shit.”

The crude analogy made Wesley’s brain twinge with anxiety, but he only had the energy to sustain being nervous about one thing at a time.  He followed Ripper’s advice, pushing out against the dildo, and felt his arsehole dilate like a mouth trying to swallow it.

“Oh, god,” he muttered.  It _was_ more comfortable that way, so he forced himself to keep pushing out as he cautiously sank down.  The dildo slid smoothly through his entrance, which felt far nicer than he cared to admit, but inside there was a tight, cramped feeling of invasion, making him groan.  He anticipated worse at any moment, until his arse encountered the base of the toy and Ripper’s hand sooner than he expected.  He went still, not quite ready to believe that was all.

Ripper’s other hand moved on his thigh again.  “There.  Is that so bad?”

“No, sir,” Wesley said uncertainly.  “It feels…”

“Like you need to use the loo?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s normal,” Ripper assured him.

Being “normal” didn’t make it any easier to bear.  The uncomfortable pressure inside was fading away, though, leaving only the feeling of his opening stretched around the base.  It felt a bit wider than the top.  Wesley squeezed experimentally and gasped, rolling his eyes, as his muscles strained against the intrusion.

The dildo shifted inside of him when Ripper stood without letting go of it, and the fingers of Ripper’s free hand trailed down Wesley’s spine.  “Go on,” he urged.  “I want to see you move.”

Wesley obeyed, lifting himself cautiously off the dildo again with a moan.  He stopped when he felt the tip start to slip out of his sphincter, then sank back down.  Ripper had been generous with the lube, so there was little friction, just the thorough awakening of every nerve at his entrance.  It was too intense to call pleasure, but his cock expressed its opinion with a dribble of precome.  When he repeated the motion, his mouth gaped involuntarily at the too-much feeling of it.

It took a few more tries before his mind and body acclimated to the new sensation, before he could move continuously, letting the dildo slide in and out of him at a slowly accelerating pace.  Then he found an angle that rubbed the toy against his prostate and he soon settled into a natural rhythm. 

Since he’d given up denying his arousal, he made no effort to avoid the sight of his reflection moving obscenely, mouth hanging open, as he stimulated himself on the toy.  If he could let the eroticism take over his senses, he didn’t have to dwell on why this wasn’t supposed to feel so good.  If he surrendered to the vision in the mirror, he didn’t have to question how right it felt to have something moving inside of him, like he’d been waiting his whole life for it.

As good as it was, it wasn’t enough.  Satisfaction hovered just beyond his reach.  Once he’d adjusted to the dildo, it seemed smaller.  He craved the too-much feeling again.  He wanted to take it deeper, he wanted to be opened wider, and he just couldn’t get his body to move the way he needed.  His neglected cock was oozing precome and he could feel the will to keep his hands on the wall eroding away.

In his writhing he managed to lodge the tip of the dildo against his prostate and he frantically drilled down on that spot. His muscles went taut as the pleasure built higher.  If he could just press a little harder, right there – no, there –

The sweet spot eluded him and he groaned in frustration.  “Fuck.  Ah!”

His cry was a result of Ripper twisting the dildo like a screw.  “Stop that.  Take it all the way.”

Wesley realized he’d been just squeezing the dildo with his arse.  He lifted his hips again reluctantly, hardly able to bear more stimulation.  His hands curled into fists on the glass.

“Please.”

“You weren’t trying to come, were you?” Ripper asked, too innocently.

“Please, sir,” Wesley repeated.  “Please, let me touch – ”

“Touch yourself?”  Ripper laughed.  “Absolutely not.”

It took all of Wesley’s willpower not to pound the wall.  “Please please please – please touch me.”

In response, Ripper pushed the dildo into him and held it there, which at least relieved Wesley of the burden of fucking himself on it.  “Manners, pet.”

Wesley tried to hold very still, as though motion might tip the scales of Ripper’s favor against him. “Please touch me, sir?”

“That’s more like it.”

Ripper’s hand skated across Wesley’s stomach but stopped short of the base of Wesley’s cock.  Wesley made a strangled noise and pushed his hips forward.

“Where did you want me to touch you?” Ripper asked.

 _You know perfectly well, you sodding prat_ , Wesley thought.  “My… my cock,” he said tensely.  “Please touch my cock.  Sir.”

Ripper’s hand slid open-palmed down the top of Wesley’s shaft, dragging a shaky groan out of Wesley.

“Like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley whispered.  He tried to rub against Ripper’s palm, but Ripper pulled it away.  “Please don’t stop!”

Ripper gave thoughtful hum and put his hand just above Wesley’s cock again.  “Are you going to be able to control yourself?”

“Sir?”

“I’d hate to have to punish you after you’ve done so well all this time,” Ripper said.  “But I’m not confident you’ll be able to follow my rules if I play with your cock.  Are you?”

Oh, god.  Ripper was right.  Wesley was already tired from overriding his instincts at every turn.  “No, sir,” he admitted.  “But – ”  But what?  He was torn between need for relief and fear of punishment.

There was a long pause during which Wesley squirmed, maddeningly aware of the dildo impaling him and the hand so very close to where he wanted it.

“I could restrain you again,” Ripper said, as though conceding a point.  “It’s not fair of me to expect you to have perfect self-discipline the first time.”

Wesley didn’t want to be restrained, but if it meant relief for his aching cock it was worth it.  “Please, sir,” he said.

Ripper clucked his tongue.  “I’m making an allowance for your lack of experience, but I _know_ you can form complete sentences.”

With a deep breath, Wesley shoved away the last vestige of his pride.  “Would you please restrain me, sir?”

“I would,” Ripper purred.  He grasped Wesley’s cock and gave him several quick strokes.

Wesley just had time to cry out before the hand was gone.  The next moment, the dildo slipped out of his arse.

“Don’t move,” Ripper said.

Wesley waited. The intermission let him come down from the sharp precipice of arousal he was hanging on, but his cock didn’t seem inclined to soften any.  He clenched his arse a few times, readjusting to emptiness.

There was some clatter in the background, and then instead of the shackles Wesley expected, a little heap of restraints fell to the floor behind him.  He was just trying to figure out how they would be used when Ripper touched his arse unexpectedly.

“One more thing before I tie you,” he said.  Wesley felt something at his entrance again, which opened easily in the aftermath of the dildo.  “This will probably hurt for a moment,” Ripper warned him.  “Don’t squeeze if you can help it.”

It was quickly clear what he meant, because in contrast to the even shape of the dildo, this thing flared wider and wider.  And for some reason Ripper hadn’t seen fit to lube it.  Wesley grunted as it quickly became uncomfortable. 

“Push out,” Ripper ordered.

Obeying helped in the short run, but only allowed Ripper to work the thing deeper, stretching him wider.  Wesley clenched in spite of himself and keened in pain.

“Almost there,” Ripper murmured.

He gave an extra little push, and Wesley’s arsehole suddenly snapped closed around a much narrower base, effectively swallowing the thing.  Wesley groaned in relief.   He felt constipated, but the worst seemed to be over.  At least the pain had put a dent in his arousal.

When Ripper tugged down on the base of the toy, Wesley clenched to keep it in.  He wasn’t going through that again if he could help it.

Ripper let go and gave Wesley’s arse a satisfied pat.  “Good.  Hold on to that.”

“Why, sir?” Wesley asked.  He didn’t understand why Ripper had suddenly decided to hurt him.

“It’s not obvious?”  Ripper nudged the base of the toy so that it prodded Wesley in unfamiliar ways.  His voice dropped as he leaned closer to Wesley.  “I want you plugged so you can’t for an instant forget whose you are.”

Oh.  Right.  “Yes, sir,” Wesley said meekly.

Ripper turned his attention to the restraints.  Surprising Wesley again, he didn’t start with Wesley’s wrists but buckled a padded strap around Wesley’s leg, just above the knee.  Wesley could see it in the mirror as Ripper started to apply a matching one to his other leg.  There was a wooden bar between the straps to prevent him from closing his legs.  His imagination helpfully anticipated how he would struggle against the bar under Ripper’s hands.

Next Ripper wrapped a thin chain around the back of Wesley’s collar, so that the ends hung down to the small of Wesley’s back, and secured it in place with a padlock near the top.  Wesley frowned in confusion, but Ripper finally had him straighten and lift his hands from the wall.  The cuffs Ripper applied to his wrists matched the ones around Wesley’s knees, a vast improvement over the unforgiving iron shackles.  Ripper’s last step was to lock the cuffs to either end of the chain trailing behind Wesley’s back.   The result was easier on Wesley’s arms than having them bound together, but rendered him no less helpless.  He tested the chains and felt an answering pull on his collar, threatening his windpipe.  Something else to make struggling interesting, then.

Ripper pushed a small, cylindrical object into Wesley’s hand.  “Hold this.”

Wesley complied.  The item had some give to it, like a bottle.  Maybe the lube?

A tug on his shoulders tipped Wesley’s balance so that he was leaning back against Ripper.  As Ripper’s arms went around him, Wesley’s head settled into the curve of Ripper’s neck all too naturally.

One of Ripper’s hands curled around Wesley’s throat; the other slid down to the juncture of Wesley’s groin and thigh to pin Wesley against him.  With a low growl, Ripper rolled his hips against Wesley’s arse.   Wesley noticed Ripper’s erection pressing into him for the first time and had a sudden cascade of emotions, from shock and fear to sympathy, flattery that Ripper was hard because of him, and even a twinge of guilt that it hadn’t occurred to him Ripper might be as aroused as he was.

Wesley started to writhe back against Ripper, then went very still when Ripper’s hand closed on his balls.  He stared at his groin in the mirror, searching for some clue to Ripper’s intent, but there was just himself, leaning bizarrely against nothing.

“Who do these belong to?” Ripper asked softly.

Wesley realized he’d forgotten to breathe.  He sucked in a breath and said shakily, “They belong to you, sir.”

Perhaps in reward, Ripper began to massage Wesley’s balls gently with his fingers.  “And your cock?”

“It belongs to you, sir,” Wesley whispered.  He watched the reflection of his balls move subtly in response to Ripper’s touch.

“And your arse?”

“It belongs to you, sir,” Wesley repeated, squeezing around the toy and remembering what Ripper had said about it.

“What do you think that means?” Ripper asked, still in the same low voice.

Wesley stammered uncertainly for a moment, then offered, “You can do anything you like to them?”

“That’s right.  And you?  What do you think I’ll permit you to do with them?”

Wesley wasn’t sure, so he erred on the side of caution.  “Nothing, sir.”

“Right again.”

Ripper’s hand tightened, not quite to the point of pain, but more than enough to focus Wesley’s attention.

“Let me say this once plainly, so there’s no mistake,” he said, right in Wesley’s ear.  His voice was no louder, but the tone precluded argument.  “If you ever touch yourself there, I will consider it theft of my property and deal with you accordingly.  Is that clear?”

 _Ever?_ Wesley wanted to protest. _As in never?_   But the hands on his most vulnerable points left him no illusion that this was a negotiation.

“Yes, sir,” he conceded.  He was glad to be leaning on Ripper, because he felt a bit dizzy with the magnitude of Ripper’s control over him.

Mercifully, Ripper didn’t give him long to dwell on it.  He released Wesley’s throat and balls and took the item that Wesley was still holding.  Casting his gaze to the very bottom of his field of vision, Wesley could see that he’d been right about what it was.  Ripper popped the cap open and squirted clear gel onto his fingers.  The bottle went back into Wesley’s hand, and then finally – finally! – Ripper caressed Wesley’s cock, smearing the lube over his shaft.

Wesley sighed in relief and pushed his hips forward.  “Yes.  Oh.”

With a laugh, Ripper made a tunnel of his hand for Wesley to thrust into.  “Do you still think I’m using magic?”

“I don’t know,” Wesley admitted.  He didn’t care; he just didn’t want Ripper to stop touching him again.  He pushed eagerly into Ripper’s fist and discovered that the plug in his arse nudged his prostate when he moved.

“Why would I need magic?” Ripper said.  “You’re at the peak of virility.  Do you expect me to believe you were a virgin by choice?  I know what the Academy’s like.  The texts that don’t keep you awake all night in terror will keep you awake all night wanking.  You must have craved someone else’s touch.”

Wesley was only half-listening, most of his brain consumed by the pleasure of his cock sliding through the tight circle of Ripper’s hand.  “Yes, sir,” he agreed.  Furtive wanks under the covers were never very satisfying; he usually ended up imagining that one of his roommates might notice and finish it for him – or, when he was feeling guilty about it, that he might be forced to finish it while they watched.

The familiar fantasy sent an extra surge of arousal to his groin.  He bucked into Ripper’s grip furiously.

He could already feel his release building when Ripper whispered, “Eager to find out what happens when you come without permission?”

With a strangled groan, Wesley ground to a halt.  His groin was flush against Ripper’s fist.  For a long moment he thought it might be too late, but soon the impending explosion receded enough for him to slump back against Ripper.

“Please, sir,” he begged.  It was so hard not to push his cock forward again, but he didn’t know if he could stop a second time.

Ripper moved his hand, sparing Wesley the temptation, only to trail the tip of a finger down the length of Wesley’s shaft.  “I suppose I am using magic in one respect,” he said.  “I can’t really help it.  Council textbooks don’t begin to do justice to the improved senses of vampires.”

Ripper paused to pin Wesley’s hips with one hand and started to knead the head of Wesley’s cock with the other.  Wesley gasped and twitched.

“I can read your body better than any hospital monitor,” Ripper said.  “I can hear your heart and your lungs.  I can smell everything.  Fear, arousal.  Your weakness for caramels.”  He laughed when Wesley tensed in shock.  “It’s the next best thing to mind reading.  I probably know more about what your body’s doing than you do.  And I will use every bit of that knowledge against you.”

Ripper took his hands away long enough to add more lube.  Once he’d smeared it around liberally, he began to jerk Wesley off, slowly at first but soon accelerating to inhuman speed.  If not for the lube it would have been agony.  Wesley moaned and writhed, his premonition about struggling against the restraints coming true as the pleasure burned into him.  He was on the verge of coming again when Ripper snatched his hand away.

“Fuck!”  Wesley’s whole body convulsed, seeking release, before he got control of himself.  “Please please please.”

“You see? I know exactly how close you are.”  Ripper returned his attention to the head of Wesley’s cock, torturing the hypersensitive flesh with slow, firm strokes of his palm. 

“No!” Wesley protested, trying to twist free, then hurried to correct himself.  “Please, sir.  Please stop.”

“Mmm, no.  I like the way you beg,” Ripper said.  He rubbed his erection against Wesley’s arse pointedly before he resumed tormenting Wesley.

Wesley tried not to beg anymore, but Ripper seemed intent on robbing him of any shred self-control. Ripper’s touch alternated between intermittent strokes, keeping Wesley close to orgasm, and that agonizing massage of the head of Wesley’s cock.  Wesley couldn’t have been quiet if Ripper had ordered it.  His vocabulary seemed to have shrunk to half a dozen words, and Ripper only responded with enjoyment.

Wesley wasn’t sure how long it went on – maybe only a few minutes, though it seemed endless.  He whimpered, trembling, when Ripper’s hand went still, just cupping his cock and balls.

“Did you want something?” Ripper whispered, like the voice of the devil in Wesley’s ear.

Wesley nodded dumbly until he pulled himself together.  “Please let me come, sir.”

Ripper taunted him with a single long stroke.  “Why should I?”

There wasn’t much Wesley had to offer, but he tried.  “You could – you could fuck me, sir.”

“Could?” Ripper growled.   His hand closed on Wesley’s balls.  “Do you think you decide when I fuck you?”

Wesley backpedalled hastily.  “No, sir.  You decide.”

Ripper grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t release Wesley’s balls.  “Do you want to be fucked?”

Wesley wanted anything, if it meant he got to come. “Yes, sir,” he said. 

“Then ask me correctly,” Ripper demanded.

Wesley swallowed.  For an instant he wanted to refuse.  “Please fuck me, sir.  Please.”

“No,” Ripper said flatly.  “You haven’t earned that.”

A wordless noise of protest escaped Wesley’s mouth.  He felt like he’d been slapped.

Ripper’s hand returned to Wesley’s cock, stroking slowly.  “Do you think this is about what you want?”

Wesley managed to stop gasping long enough to say, “No, sir.”

“What do you think it’s about?”

“What you want, sir.”

Ripper made a hum of agreement and kept moving his hand implacably along the length of Wesley’s cock. 

Eventually it dawned on Wesley that Ripper was waiting for something.  He struggled to free his thoughts from the morass of need that was consuming him.  “What do you want, sir?” he asked.

“You’re the prodigal boy,” Ripper said, giving Wesley no relief.  “Surely you can work it out.”

Wesley stammered incoherently, then closed his mouth.  His addled brain recalled the threat of a switching, but that was just silly.  If Ripper wanted to beat him, he would have done it.  Ripper’s erection was still pressing against Wesley’s arse.  Surely he wanted relief almost as much as Wesley did.  But if he didn’t want to fuck Wesley, then…?

Oh.

Wesley swallowed convulsively and licked his lips.

“By George, I think he’s got it,” Ripper murmured.

Wesley shook his head.  Stupid of him, not to realize sooner that Ripper would want to use his mouth. “No,” he pleaded.

“No?”  Ripper shrugged.  “I won’t force you.  It’ll be interesting to see how long I can keep you this way.  Do your balls hurt yet?”

“No!  All right,” Wesley conceded.  “Please.”

“Please what?” Ripper asked.  “You’re not making sense.”  But his hands stopped moving, which was a relief in itself.

“Please…”  If asking to be fucked was difficult, this was ten times worse.  “Please let me – let me…”  Wesley opened and closed his mouth mutely a few times, then got it out.  “Suck your cock.  Sir.”

“That’s more like it,” Ripper said.  He slipped his hand under Wesley’s armpits to support him. “Lift your feet.”

Wesley obeyed, nervously at first, but Ripper just lowered him onto his knees. It was a move he never would have negotiated on his own with his legs wedged open.  When Ripper let him go, he tucked his heels in and sat down.

After just a few seconds, Ripper was back, crouching beside Wesley.  It was a shock to be able to see him clearly again.  He lifted Wesley’s cock and balls, looped a black leather band around and between them, and snapped it in place.

Suddenly the needy ache of Wesley’s cock was a sharp throb and the tension on his balls was enough to set his teeth on edge.  He whined, looking at Ripper with a wordless plea, but Ripper just smiled knowingly at him.  Wesley hung his head.  His balls bulged obscenely on either side of his cock, the skin so tight his veins showed through.  He yanked on the chains binding his arms in despair.

Ripper snapped the lead to Wesley’s collar again and gave it a tug.  “Over here, pet.”

Wesley took one last look at his reflection before he turned awkwardly on his hobbled knees and shuffled towards Ripper.  It was a matter of feet, but every movement inflicted a cacophony of sensations on him: the carpet chafing his shins, the toy in his arse prodding him, and his cock and balls jostling painfully.  By the time he reached Ripper, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, Wesley was quivering.

Ripper tipped Wesley’s chin up with two fingers and met his gaze.  Whatever he saw in Wesley’s face made him frown.  He brushed Wesley’s hair back from his forehead.   “Sit.”

Wesley settled back on his heels with relief.  Being able to see Ripper again grounded him.  The green eyes held Wesley’s in silence for a while and in spite of himself Wesley calmed.  His breathing deepened, his pulse slowed, and though his cock still throbbed in time with his heart, the sensations swung back towards pleasure.

“Better,” Ripper said, once Wesley’s shaking subsided.  “I know you’re overwhelmed.  You’re handling it very well; I daresay most people would have forced me to punish them by now.  If you can keep your head long enough to satisfy me, I’ll let you rest.”

“And come, sir?” Wesley asked.  He couldn’t imagine being able to rest if he wasn’t allowed to come.

Ripper smiled affectionately and nudged Wesley’s cock with his toe.  “Do you know why I want you hard while you suck me?”

Wesley hissed.  “Motivation, sir?”

Ripper’s smile turned into a laugh.  “Frustration, more like.” 

He pulled the lead tight and pushed the sole of his boot against the exposed underside of Wesley’s cock.  Wesley’s eyes rolled at the exquisite pressure.

“Do not treat this as a chore to be rushed through for a reward,” Ripper said sternly, though the smile lingered.  “Your goal is not to make me come.  Your goal is to show me that my desires are more important to you than your own.  Do you understand why?”

Wesley took a deep breath, struggling to think about anything besides the sensation in his cock.  “Because I’m your slave, sir?”

“Yes.  And what precisely does that mean?”

“That, um…” Why did Ripper have to make him say these things?  “It doesn’t matter what I want.  I have to please you.  Sir.”

Ripper put his boot down and patted Wesley’s cheek.  His hand lingered, thumb caressing Wesley’s lips.  “Well put.  You are going to please me, aren’t you?”

Wesley’s tongue touched Ripper’s thumb almost of its own accord.  He was suddenly having trouble speaking.  He wanted to please Ripper, he just feared what could go wrong if he tried.  It would have been less nerve-wracking if Ripper had asked him to translate an unknown language.

“Do that again,” Ripper said with rough warmth in his voice.

A clear instruction.  Wesley could deal with that.  Watching Ripper’s face for feedback, he licked the pad of Ripper’s thumb, then sealed his lips around it and sucked gently.  He was rewarded with the sight of Ripper’s eyes narrowing in lust.

“That’s the idea,” Ripper murmured.  “Take it like you’ll take my cock.”

The thought of Ripper’s cock in his mouth made Wesley’s stomach twist, but he leaned in to capture Ripper’s thumb.  Unsure what to do next, he sucked on it rather harder than he’d intended.

“Be careful with your teeth,” Ripper warned him.

In his haste to withdraw his teeth, Wesley somehow got himself stuck like a Chinese trap around Ripper’s finger; the more he tried to open his jaw, the tighter it got.  He panicked and pulled against the tight suction of his own making until his mouth popped opened with a wet slurp, then went still in embarrassment.

Ripper just slid a steadying hand into his hair and said, “Easy, pet.  Try it again.”

Wesley closed his lips around Ripper’s thumb again, taking care to keep his jaw open.  To his relief, his teeth stayed out of the way when he sucked tentatively.  His cheeks hollowed, filling the vacant space.

Encouraged by Ripper’s nod of approval, Wesley circled his tongue around the finger.  That earned him a lusty hum, so he continued more confidently, pulling back to let Ripper’s thumb slide through his lips, then leaning forward to suck it in again.

Ripper’s free hand moved to massage his erection through his jeans.  Wesley’s eyes followed the motion, suddenly transfixed by the vague but unmistakable outline.  He anticipated his jaw straining to admit Ripper’s cock and the urgent thrum of his arousal ratcheted higher.

“You want this,” Ripper observed, squeezing the bulge under his hand.

Wesley whimpered and tried to stop imagining, but it was hard with the thumb sliding in and out of his mouth in pantomime.  The way it rubbed against his tongue wasn’t helping.  When Ripper turned his hand and his thumb stroked Wesley’s palate, Wesley whimpered.  Damn his traitorous cock.  Damn Ripper for understanding Wesley’s body better than Wesley did.  He shifted, craving stimulation again.

Ripper moved, stretching his legs out on either side of Wesley, and adjusted his crotch with exaggerated care.  “When you’re ready to move on,” he said, “come and give me a kiss.”  His hand framed his balls, as though there were any doubt what he meant.

“Ready” wasn’t the word Wesley would have used, but he knew stalling would only prolong the ordeal.  He stared at the spot in question for a few moments, working up his nerve, before he let Ripper’s thumb slip free.  Ripper leaned back as Wesley leaned forward to plant his lips against the coarse denim.

“Good,” Ripper purred.  “Beg for my cock.  Don’t speak.  Show me.”

Beg?  Wesley leaned close enough to rub his cheek against Ripper’s erection and made a little noise of desire in his throat.  When he glanced up for a response, Ripper seemed unimpressed.  Show him, Ripper had said.  Whining louder, Wesley licked the entire length of the bulge a few times.  When that still produced no reaction, Wesley turned his head so he could get his teeth on either side of Ripper’s shaft, trusting the thick fabric to protect Ripper, and pulled at it like a dog with a toy.

“Oh, yes,” Ripper sighed.  His fingers twisted gently in Wesley’s hair.  “Your breath is so warm.”

That was gratifying, but it wasn’t the response Wesley was after.  He nipped his way up to the head and got his mouth as far around it as he could, but all the licking and nibbling and heavy breathing he could apply only drew more sighs of enjoyment from Ripper.

Wesley groaned against Ripper’s crotch.  What did he have to do to get Ripper to take his cock out?  Not knowing what else to try, he raised his head far enough to reach the button on Ripper’s jeans and caught the corner of the waistband in his teeth.  To his relief, Ripper didn’t object.  He made no move to assist, though, and Wesley realized he was going to have to follow through. 

It was easier than he’d expected.  The button slipped free in a matter of seconds.  It took him several tries to get hold of the zipper tab, but once he did the zipper slid down just as easily.  Feeling triumphant, he glanced up at Ripper with a hopeful smile, before he remembered that this wasn’t something to be proud of.  But their eyes met and Ripper smiled back at him in approval, and Wesley couldn’t help being glad.

“I like your initiative,” Ripper said.  He raised his arse long enough to push his jeans down to his thighs.

Wesley’s eyes widened at the sight of the pale erection that sprang free, but he didn’t have time to ogle because Ripper took up the lead to get his attention.

“Since this is your first time, I’ll talk you through it,” he said, which eased Wesley’s mind.  “As long as you’re gentle, you needn’t fear making mistakes.  Begin with my balls.  Lick them, suck them.  I can’t wait to feel them fill your mouth.”

Wesley’s doubt that Ripper’s balls would even _fit_ in his mouth must have showed on his face, because Ripper added, “One at a time will be enough for tonight.”

Wesley dropped his gaze to the area in question.  Putting his mouth on Ripper through the jeans had been one thing.  Faced with the prospect of licking bare, undead flesh, he suddenly found it hard to breathe.  He glanced up at Ripper, then back down.  Ripper would be angry if he failed now.

Trembling, he started to lean in, only to have Ripper catch him by the chin.  He whimpered fearfully.  Was he in trouble already?

“Breathe, pet,” Ripper said gently, tilting Wesley’s head up.

It took a couple of tries, but Wesley managed a deep, full breath.

“You can do this,” Ripper insisted, stroking Wesley’s cheek with his fingertips.  “There’s no hurry.  Start as slowly as you need to.”

Wesley nodded, still focused on taking one breath after another.  He was relieved that Ripper wasn’t angry.  He thought he knew how to start slowly.  When Ripper let him go, he cautiously laid his cheek against Ripper’s groin.

The skin was cool, but as supple as Wesley’s own, and the only scent was a human-enough musk that Wesley found unexpectedly appealing.  He closed his eyes and nuzzled Ripper’s balls.  Pubic hair tickled his face, but at least there was nothing supernatural about that.  His needy whimper was more heart-felt than he would have liked.  Since it had pleased Ripper before, he drew back far enough to place a tender kiss on Ripper’s scrotum, and Ripper petted his head again in an encouraging way. 

Wesley paused to take another steadying breath.  He was still hard, still trembling, but he was reaching that point of perfect exhaustion that muted the clamor in his head during marathon homework sessions, freeing him to focus on the task in front of him.  He let himself take refuge in it now, anxiety fading to the background as he bathed Ripper’s scrotum with his tongue.

Soft sighs and the movement of Ripper’s fingers against his scalp were enough to reassure Wesley that he was doing well.  Soon he worked up the courage to suck on one of the firm glands, opening his jaw wide to let it slide within.

Ripper groaned.  “Yes, just like that.  Oh, that heat…”

Wesley attended to the other side with equal care and got an equally gratifying response.  His own body responded with empathy to Ripper’s pleasure and he squirmed half-consciously in search of stimulation.  His wide open legs ensured that there was none to be found.

“Enough,” Ripper said with sudden impatience.  “Lick my cock.”

Without hesitation, Wesley caressed the underside of Ripper’s shaft with his tongue, trying to reach as much of it as he could.  In contrast to the loose skin and hair on Ripper’s balls, Ripper’s cock felt tight and smooth.  There was something satisfying about the way Wesley could put his whole body into the motion of licking Ripper’s cock from base to tip.

“Good, good,” Ripper said.  “Now the head.  Suck on it.  Get under the foreskin.”

Wesley obediently moved to suck on the head of Ripper’s cock and work his tongue beneath Ripper’s long foreskin, which didn’t seem to fully retract. He was rewarded with unrestrained moans and the subtle motion of Ripper’s hips as he made an obvious effort not to thrust forward.  It was hard for Wesley to believe he could have such an effect on anyone, even when he was forced into it and given step-by-step directions.  Was it possible to feel shame and pride at the same time?

 “All right,” Ripper said at last, hoarse with arousal.  “Take me in your mouth, as far as you can.”

Remembering the lesson he’d learned about keeping his teeth out of the way, Wesley wrapped his lips around Ripper’s cock and cautiously bent his head.  His gag reflex stopped him sooner than he expected.  He’d barely taken half of Ripper’s length, but his mouth felt overfull and keeping his jaw open was a strain.  He whimpered.

“That’s far enough,” Ripper assured him.  “Hold still.  I want to savor this.” 

Saliva started to pool in Wesley’s mouth within moments, but when he tried to suckle it away, Ripper gently squeezed the muscles under his jaw.  “Not yet.”  The hand stayed there, keeping Wesley still while he drooled helplessly.

“Such a good pet,” Ripper murmured.  With his free hand, he traced Wesley’s lips around his shaft.  “You like my cock, don’t you?  You wish you could take it all the way down, into your throat.  You’re not ready for that.  But I’ll let you swallow my come.”

Wesley’s head swam with the images the words evoked.  Swallow a vampire’s semen? He whimpered again.  Part of him wished he were disgusted enough to refuse to continue, consequences be damned.

“Yes.”  Wesley could hear the smile in Ripper’s voice.  “Stuffed full at both ends and so very excited.  I chose my pet well.”

Wesley clenched his arse around the plug at the reminder of his state.  He didn’t want to feel a glow of approval, not for this.  He didn’t want to hear the warmth of affection in Ripper’s voice every time he said “pet.”  At least a slave was presumed to be human.  He risked closing his eyes, since there was nothing to look at anyway except the dark curls on Ripper’s stomach.

“Go on,” Ripper said, letting go of Wesley’s jaw.  “If you want to taste me, you’ll have to work for it.”

For an instant Wesley was paralyzed.  If he hadn’t been effectively gagged, he might have protested that he didn’t want that at all.  But something about being so thoroughly bound and penetrated seemed to open him to Ripper’s words, letting them burrow inside him and become truth.  He began to bob his head and move his tongue along Ripper’s cock almost before he realized he was doing it.

His jaw already ached from straining open, but having a cock sliding in and out of his mouth felt entirely too good. A rhythm came naturally and his tongue knew what to do without being directed.  Ripper seemed to think he was doing it correctly, at least.  There were Ripper’s hands again, tangled loosely in his hair, and the sounds Ripper made resonated in Wesley’s body. 

As though the action of fucking his mouth on Ripper’s cock jarred something loose in Wesley’s head, he began to cry.  There were no sobs, just a hitch in his breath and heavy drops that welled out and streaked his face.  It wasn’t disgust at what he was doing that set him off, or even the shame of participating in his own violation, but the discovery that it felt _right_.  It felt as though Ripper had stripped Wesley’s mind as completely as his body and touched his core, which craved being needy and helpless and used.

The demands of his own body drove Wesley’s efforts to a fever pitch, as though it would be a relief no matter which of them came.  Before long, Ripper’s hands tightened and his hips moved as though it were all he could do not to shove his cock in.  When Ripper grunted a warning, Wesley was ready for the flood of cool, sticky come.  He gulped it down with only a remote twinge of revulsion, then lovingly cleaned Ripper’s cock of the traces of it.  Suddenly he didn’t want it to be over after all.

Ripper lifted Wesley’s chin, and even then Wesley’s tongue darted in and out a few times before his mind caught up.  He blinked wetness from his eyes and basked in the satisfied glow on Ripper’s face.  He’d done it.  He’d made Ripper come.

“You are remarkable,” Ripper said.  To Wesley’s shock, he leaned down and tenderly licked the tears from Wesley’s face.

The cold, wet touch was soothing.  Wesley sat perfectly still, eyes closed, until Ripper finished and cradled the back of his head.  The puff of air that Ripper needed to speak tickled Wesley’s ear. “There’s no shame in enjoying this. It’s only right for you to worship my cock.”

Wesley made a tiny sound.  He wanted to believe it.

“Did you like it better in your arse or in your mouth?” Ripper asked, still in that conspiratorial tone.

It was an effort for Wesley to answer.  “In my mouth, sir,” he confessed.  It didn’t hurt that way, and he liked having a more active role.

Ripper responded with a knowing hum.  He braced one hand on Wesley’s shoulder and reached down to tease the head of Wesley’s cock.  “Let me hear you beg again.”

That was easier.  The words spilled from Wesley’s lips without thought.  “Please, sir.  Please let me come.”

“Yes, like that,” Ripper murmured.  He removed the leather band from around Wesley’s cock.

Wesley moaned as his blood flow changed abruptly.  At first his cock and balls seemed to throb even more intensely than before, and Ripper’s firm touch, squeezing and rubbing, didn’t help.  “Oh, please!” he repeated.

When Ripper straightened, he paused to tuck himself back in, then picked up Wesley’s lead and wound it around his hand.  “Tell me you’re mine,” he said.

“I’m yours, sir,” Wesley answered, meeting Ripper’s gaze without reservation.

“My what?”

“Your slave, sir.”

“Good boy,” Ripper said.  He patted Wesley’s cheek.  “Do you understand that this is not quid pro quo?  You do not get to come simply because I did.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley said, then added anxiously, “Please, sir.”

“Relax.  I’m exceptionally pleased with your performance tonight, and I did promise you a reward.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wesley sighed.  He felt better just knowing that relief was in view.

Ripper smiled at him.  “I’m going to grant you the extra privilege of doing this for yourself.  But – ” Ripper held up a finger sternly “ – only on my conditions.”

Ripper hadn’t asked for a response, so Wesley waited to hear the conditions.

Ripper propped one foot on the edge of the bed frame.  “Your cock is only allowed to touch my boot,” he explained.  “You will come on it, and then you will lick it clean.  Is that clear?”

The twinge of embarrassment Wesley felt was mostly habit, and easily shrugged off.  “Yes, sir.”  He licked his lips.  “What if – what if I miss?”

“With your come?” Another smile touched Ripper’s lips.  “I suppose I’d have to warm your arse a bit for making a mess.  Something tells me you wouldn’t mind that so much.  Would you?”

Wesley had to look away for a moment as he flashed back to the child-like feeling of lying across Ripper’s lap.  “No, sir,” he admitted.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, hmm?”

“No, sir,” Wesley repeated, though he somehow doubted it.  He would just have to do his best, which miraculously seemed to be enough for Ripper so far.

“Go on, then,” Ripper said.

Wesley dropped his gaze to the worn, black work boot that was suddenly the center of his world.  Bringing his cock in contact with it proved awkward with his legs bound as they were.  He ended up leaning into Ripper’s knee with his arse pushed out so that his cock was low enough.  The position lit an instant burn in his thighs as he started to rut against the creased leather.

A pull on the collar made him crane his neck to see what Ripper wanted.

“Eyes on me.  I want to see your face when you come.”

“Yes, sir,” Wesley acknowledged.  He kept his head up, watching Ripper smile complacently down at him.

He was distantly aware that he should be ashamed of humping Ripper’s leg like a randy dog, but all he felt was relief.  Even the coarse texture of boot laces against the bare head of his cock couldn’t overwhelm his need to come, though the discomfort slowed him down. 

“Please,” he groaned, trying to move faster, press harder.  “Please please please.”  He wasn’t really asking for anything, he just couldn’t come fast enough.

For a few frantic minutes, he thought the conflicting sensations might be enough to deny him his release, but the toy in his arse was still working on his prostate and he found a better spot to rub his cock against and suddenly everything clicked over to good, good, good, more, more, more and then his muscles locked and his cock spurted as hard as he could ever remember.

He had a few moments of blissful relief, collapsed across Ripper’s leg and the side of the bed, before a tug on the lead reminded him that he couldn’t rest yet.  There was something else he had to do.

He sat back and discovered that without the arousal to buoy him his arse felt painfully raw and stretched.  Getting the toy out would be agony even if Ripper allowed it, though, so he tried to put it from his mind. 

A quick look down reassured him that most, if not all, of his come had ended up where it was supposed to be, a creamy white splatter against the dark leather.  Wincing, Wesley shuffled backwards to get enough room, then lowered his head to lap the sticky mess from his master’s boot.

**Author's Note:**

> Any constructive feedback is welcome, particularly with regard to Americanisms, etc.


End file.
